


Lemon Boy and Me

by dumplin



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, and insecurities, it's really cute I think, mostly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumplin/pseuds/dumplin
Summary: The first time Jongho met Yeosang, he had just finished an all-nighter at the library, had not showered in at least 36 hours, and had a coffee stain down the front of his button up.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Lemon Boy and Me

_ There are five ways an omega could welcome or reject a potential mate _

At least, that’s what Jongho’s textbook said. Five ways, apart from the obvious verbal cues that people really  _ should _ take at face value. Just because one’s scent smelled aroused didn’t mean  _ anything _ . 

Jongho took a deep breath, staring at the blinking cursor on his laptop. Anyway. 

_ There are five ways an omega could welcome or reject a potential mate, outside of the bounds of purely verbal communication. Firstly, an omega can welcome a potential mate by sweetening their scent, consciously or unconsciously. Of course, it is also very easy to smell when an omega wants nothing to do with said potential partner. _

\\\

The first time Jongho met Yeosang, he had just finished an all-nighter at the library, had not showered in at least 36 hours, and had a coffee stain down the front of his button up. It was the middle of finals week, so Jongho felt he should be excused for the state he was in, and would have felt no shame at all about himself if it weren’t for the fact that Yeosang looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a magazine, and if Hongjoong hadn’t been building up the two of them meeting for about a month at that point. 

Jongho hadn’t wanted to meet anyone that day. He had wanted to go home, get a few hours of sleep, drag himself into the shower and then go and take his second to last final. Hongjoong, however, had been begging for this meet up for weeks, insisting that he and Yeosang would be “a good fit, really, Jongho, just give him a chance”, and he’d kinda promised Hongjoong he would try,  _ and _ this was the only time he had.

So, at 9 am, smelling of a day and a half old sweat, Jongho sat across from Yeosang, running his tongue across his gritty teeth, wishing he had thought to at least run a comb through his hair. It couldn’t be more obvious how much he and Yeosang didn’t fit together. Even on a normal, non-final day, Jongho was, at most, semi-awake at 9 am, presentable but only just. 

Yeosang’s white-blonde hair, while starting to grow out at the roots, was smooth and soft looking around his face, and his skin seemed to fairly  _ glow _ , while Jongho had never been more aware of the patch of skin breaking out on his jaw, or the state of his unshaved upper lip. Yeosang even had a trace of eyeliner around his eyes, and his clothes, while casual, were clean and seemed to fall around his frame as if posed. 

Jongho sipped loudly at his cup of chai latte (he should lay off the coffee if he wanted to get to sleep in a bit), and cleared his throat. 

“Uh, sorry about,” he gestured at, well, all of himself, “all this. I just came from the library.” He tried a small smile. “Finals, you know?”

Yeosang smiled back politely, nodding slightly. Jongho pretended not to notice the slight wrinkle of his nose. He knew he didn’t smell like flowers and roses and all that shit, but at least Yeosang wasn’t  _ saying _ anything about it. 

“Of course. I’m just doing a diploma, skipped out on the whole degree thing.” His voice was smooth, and deeper than his slight frame implied. Jongho hid a shiver in another sip of his drink. 

“Oh, yeah. Hongjoong mentioned you’re, ah, modelling? And acting? Or was it just the one? Sorry, I might only have been half-listening at the time.” 

Yeosang pursed his lips, and Jongho gave an internal sigh. It wasn’t  _ his _ fault that Hongjoong insisted on talking to him when Jongho was neck deep in coding a semester project and took Jongho’s half-mumbled responses as a sign that he was paying rapt attention. He  _ did _ try his best, but there was only so much headspace he could give to Hongjoong when his code refused to compile for the twentieth time in a row, and he had about three days to figure out  _ why _ . 

“Both, actually, though I’ve only done small commercials. The modelling thing is much more lucrative.”

Jongho snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Yeosang raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry, I just meant, well, uh, you’re obviously  _ gorgeous _ .” Jongho huffed out a laugh, trying to pretend his ears weren’t hot. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, or a come on, per se. It was an obvious fact, and Jongho was just stating it, and it was not like Yeosang could be unaware of it. 

Yeosang didn’t look taken aback, but a small, pleased smile did appear as his eyes looked over Jongho. He opened his mouth to say something, probably some false platitude, some pleasantry social convention demanded of him, to compliment something about Jongho.

“Uh, you don’t have to say anything about me. I mean,” Jongho rolled his eyes self-deprecatingly, “I know I don’t look great right now.” Jongho raised a hand to run through his hair, felt the greasiness of it, and winced as he pulled his hand away. What a way to show up in front of probably the most beautiful person on God’s green earth. Sorry, Hongjoong, Jongho didn’t think this was going to work out.

“Ah, it’s fine. I know a diamond in the rough when I see one.” There’s a grin in Yeosang voice. 

Jongho stared at him. Yeosang stared back at him, mouth ticking up at the corner. Jongho cleared his throat. “That’s so cheesy.”

At that, Yeosang burst out laughing, hand slapping lightly on the laminated table top. Jongho glanced around, but the cafe was full enough that they didn’t draw undue attention. “Yeah, yeah it was. Seriously, though, don’t worry about it. I don’t look like this,” he gestured himself, “all the time either. I’m on my way to a shoot after this.”

“Ah.” Jongho nodded. On the way to a shoot Yeosang might be, he still looked better than Jongho when he was actually  _ trying _ . Still, the attempt at making Jongho feel better was appreciated, if unnecessary. Jongho was very aware of the fact he didn’t fit the traditional omega look. Instead of dainty and willowy, he was stocky and solid, and no one who saw him starting an argument with one of the pushy alphas in his Data Base class would call him modest and shy.

He just didn’t see the point. He was good at what he did, and he saw no need to stand back just because some loud mouthed alpha thought that, just because he talked louder and more than everyone else, he was right. 

As they sipped at their respective drinks, Jongho glanced at his watch. Wow. An entire twenty minutes had passed since they sat down. When he looked up again, Yeosang was watching him with narrowed eyes, and Jongho fought the automatic flush that threatened to rise in his cheeks. What was he even blushing about?

“If you still need to study, or like, sleep, we can schedule this for another time, you know.”

Yeosang’s voice was all consideration, no accusation or disappointment present, but the little sliver of hope Hongjoong had instilled in Jongho fluttered its way down to Jongho’s stomach anyway. It’s not like he had expected anything from this, he  _ really _ hadn’t, but. But still. 

Yeosang smelled nice, amazing, actually, soft, woodsy scent with a hint of cinnamon threading through it, and he looked amazing and well. Jongho mostly just wished he hadn’t met up with Yeosang while sleep-deprived and tacky with a day and half’s accumulated dirt. 

“Sure!” Jongho winced at the peppy sound of his voice. “Do you want my number or…?”

Yeosang grinned at him and took his number. “I’ll send you a message after my shoot, okay? We can figure things out from there.” 

Jongho smiled half-heartedly and walked with him outside the cafe, watching for a few seconds as he walked away before turning around and heading back to his dorm. He had a final in seven hours, and he needed to get at least five hours of sleep or he  _ would _ fall asleep halfway through. He didn’t have time to worry about gorgeous alphas that smelled like something Jongho would really want to bury his nose in.

After he had woken up and taken a shower, hair grease-free and fluffy once again, thank goodness, he checked his phone. He had the usual few messages from the groupchat with Yunho, Wooyoung and Hongjoong and… one message from an unfamiliar number. 

**Unknown Number**

Hi! You’re probably asleep or writing your final atm, but this is me, Kang Yeosang, as promised :)

[ ](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ENcG0idWkAELMLC.jpg)

Something in Jongho’s chest released, and he smiled.

**Choi Jongho**

Hey

Didn’t actually expect you to message me.

I’m glad you did though!

And, just so you know, I  _ can _ look better than I did this morning

**Kang Yeosang**

I think you looked completely fine and normal for a university student this morning ;)

Btw, didn’t get a chance to tell you

You smell really nice

Jongho cleared his throat. He was alone in his dorm, Hongjoong was either at the library or one of his own finals. He was alone in the dorm, and he still felt like hiding his face under a pillow. 

**Choi Jongho**

Ah, thanks

At least something about me was nice

You smell nice too!

**Kang Yeosang**

Thanks, I appreciate it :)

Are you done with your final yet?

Jongho glanced at the clock. He had about an hour before the final began, but he wanted to go over his work again and he liked being at the exam halls early. 

**Choi Jongho**

Actually have to get going for it now

Talk later?

**Kang Yeosang**

Of course

Good luck

**Choi Jongho**

Thanks!

\\\

_ The second way for an omega to signal their interest or disinterest, is, on the surface, fairly simple. Body language is an important indicator for any sex, but for an omega it carries specific significance. It’s a common misconception that omegas show deference to their chosen mate, and while that may be seen in more traditional pairings, the actual signs of preference are much more subtle and have almost nothing to do with subservient or reverent behaviour. Omegas can be just as possessive as alphas, but most show it in subtler, sometimes even unconscious ways.  _

\\\

Jongho met Yeosang’s friends for the first time about three weeks after they… started seeing each other? Dating? Jongho wasn’t sure what the term was, what exactly they were doing, but he was happier than he’d been in a while, and each time he came home after drinking coffee or seeing a movie with Yeosang, Hongjoong would be up and waiting for him, smiling wide and demanding all the details. Jongho didn’t think there was much to tell, but according to Hongjoong everything was going according to plan - whose plan, Jongho wanted to ask - and kept telling Jongho that he knew he and Yeosang would hit it off. 

“How on  _ earth _ could you have known that?” Jongho snorted, fiddling with his piercings. He wasn’t sure whether to go understated with his silver studs, or all out with eye-catching accessories. It was just a casual dinner, something they apparently do once every second week, according to Yeosang, but Jongho… Well, if Yeosang’s friends looked anything like him, Jongho couldn’t afford to be a wallflower. “He’s all,  _ that _ , and I’m just…” Jongho stood back, eyeing himself in the mirror. “I’m just me.”

Hongjoong scoffed. “Don’t start with me, Jongho. I’ve told you a hundred if I’ve told you a thousand times, you are fucking  _ gorgeous _ , and anyone, alpha or no, would be lucky to have you. And, I’m a Beta, I just  _ know _ things,” Hongjoong finished with a grin, looking up at Jongho from where he’s hanging down the side of his bed, face gradually reddening. 

“That’s a myth. Betas are good at mediating, not matchmaking.” 

“Just because it hasn’t been scientifically proven doesn’t mean it’s a myth,” Hongjoong sniffed at him. “Betas have superpowers and you can’t convince me otherwise.” His face was now red as a cherry-tomato, and Jongho went to crouch down beside him.

“Do those superpowers include passing out from their blood gathering in their head?”

Hongjoong stuck out his tongue at Jongho, but flailed himself upright, shaking his head quickly as he did. “That happened  _ once _ , it’s time to let it go.”

“You got a  _ concussion _ .”

“Barely.”

Jongho shoved Hongjoon lightly then went to stand in front of the mirror again, tugging at his sleeves. When he’d been planning this outfit, he’d liked the image of a dress shirt peeking out from underneath his jacket but… Maybe it was a bit too much? Maybe he was going to show up, and he’s going to be overdressed, or say the wrong thing, and Yeosang’s friends will hate him and Yeosang will finally come to his senses and realise that, wow, Jongho really wasn’t worth all of this--

“Hey.” Hongjoong’s cheek rubbed against the side of Jongho’s neck, scenting him as he released calming pheromones, rubbing his hands up and down Jongho’s arms. “Calm down. You look great. They’re gonna love you, and Yeosang already loves you, so it’s fine.”

“Yeosang doesn’t love me, that’s not--” Jongho stopped, took a deep breath, allowing Hongjoong’s gentle scent to calm him. He opened his eyes, looking at Hongjoong in the mirror. “You don’t think I’m overdressed?”

Hongjoong tilted his head, actually taking Jongho seriously, before clicking his tongue and turning Jongho to face him. One, two buttons popped on Jongho’s collar before Hongjoong stepped back, seemingly satisfied. “There you go. You look nice, but not like you’re on your way to a formal.”

Jongho swallowed, looking down at the slivers of skin the buttons exposed. “Hongjoong.” His voice was soft, softer than he'd intended. “Hongjoong, hyung, what if they don’t like me? What if, what if it goes bad, and I say the wrong thing, or I’m not. Not enough?” There’s an ache in Jongho’s throat, and he swallowed convulsively, trying to hide it. He was being ridiculous. This was just a dinner. He shouldn’t be making such a big deal about this. 

A firm hand pulled his chin up until he was looking directly into Hongjoong’s fierce eyes. “They’re gonna  _ love _ you, and if they don’t, and Yeosang decides to dump you because of that, he’s not the person I thought he was and you’re better off without him anyway.” Hongjoong grinned, undermining the seriousness of his words. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger.”

“That’s so lame, hyung,” Jongho groaned, but he did feel better, so, sending a quick text off to Yeosang to let him know he was on his way, he left the dorms, feeling cautiously optimistic about the evening. 

The place they were to meet up at was understated, filled with an eclectic mix of people. It wasn’t a place Jongho would have come to on his own, if only because, for all its quiet charm, it was undeniably for people who could afford to splurge on more than just a bit of meat every third week. In other words, this place was for people who already made their own money. Jongho simultaneously hoped Yeosang didn’t expect him to pay for himself, while rebelling against the idea of letting someone else take care of him. 

He was a strong independent omega who didn’t need no alpha. Jongho glanced at the board in front of the entrance as he waited outside, eyes widening at the prices. Well, maybe, just this once, having someone else take care of him wouldn’t be  _ that _ bad.

After waiting for a bit more, pressing himself into a dark corner, trying to convince himself this  _ was _ the right place, he was just a bit early, Jongho saw a familiar white head of hair and popped out of his hiding place. Yeosang had touched up his roots a few weeks before, sending Jongho progress pictures the whole way, and Jongho lo-- liked it. A lot. He’d also saved the pictures, spending an inordinate amount of time debating the merits of putting them up as his wallpaper and lockscreen, before embarrassment and self-consciousness won over and he’d instead saved them in a specially named folder where everything Yeosang related went.

Jongho liked Yeosang a normal amount and definitely didn’t allow himself to think of lazy mornings spent making out in bed. Especially since Yeosang hadn’t even kissed him yet. 

Yeosang broke out into a soft smile when he saw Jongho and Jongho couldn’t help the answering smile that spread across his own face. Not that he wanted to. Jongho felt his smile widen and his heart rate pick up as Yeosang approached, raising his arms as if to envelop Jongho in a hug. 

That would be a first, for them. 

Jongho would say that, for an omega, he wasn’t much for skinship. Sure, he enjoyed a hug and a cuddle from people he knew every once in a while, but he didn’t think he fell into the stereotype of omega’s needing to be hanging off people every second. 

Still.  _ Still _ . He was an omega. More than that, he was a  _ human being _ who needed touch and social interaction and confirmation that he was indeed wanted, all of that to say he didn’t understand why Yeosang hadn’t taken this further yet. At first it had seemed gentlemanly, Yeosang not presuming too much, not invading Jongho's personal space without his consent. It was hard to give consent, however, when you were never asked.

This was something Jongho hadn’t told Hongjoong. Hongjoong worried about Jongho enough, Jongho didn’t need to add to that. If Yeosang didn’t find Jongho desirable, didn’t want to touch him despite the time they’ve spent together then-- Then that was entirely his prerogative, and Jongho wouldn’t hold it against him. 

Felt like shit, though, even more so when Yeosang’s arms dropped just enough to grab Jongho’s wrists and drag him, still smiling, into the restaurant, dropping him immediately as they approached a table occupied by three of probably the prettiest people Jongho had ever seen. Yeosang greeted them with a hug, pulling each of them close before turning to Jongho and introducing them.

There was Seonghwa, an omega, studying to be a fashion designer, easily the most elegant and sexiest person in the place. Mingi, a dance student, lanky and tall, his edges somehow accentuating his beauty instead of making him look harsh. Also an omega. Then, San, a beta, his feline features spreading wide in a pleasant grin as Yeosang introduced him as their resident artist. 

“Wow,” Jongho said, looking around at the collection of pretty people around him as he took his seat. “You’re all like, really into the arts and stuff, huh?”

Yeosang took a seat next to Jongho, leaning forward onto the table and looking between him and the rest of the group with what seemed like excitement and anticipation. Jongho felt nerves curl in his stomach like an old friend. He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to disappoint that expression.

Seonghwa let out a soft laugh, leaning back in his seat, his glossy black hair shining in the atmospheric light surrounding their table. “I guess. Yeosang told us you do something in computers?”

“Ah, yeah. Just uh, Computer Science and Mathematics. Boring stuff, really.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, wanting every moment to sink more into the soft plush seat. What was he doing here? He liked equations and reveled in the feeling of solving a problem after hours of struggling with it. He wouldn’t say he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body, he liked and appreciated art as much as the next person, but he very much didn’t feel like he fit here. He had felt out of place just hanging out with Yeosang; this was simply driving that discomfort home.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Jongho started as he realised Yeosang was squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re selling yourself short, Jongho.” This was said to Jongho himself, a gentle smile playing around the edges of Yeosang’s mouth, before he turned to address his friends. His hand was still heavy and warm on Jongho’s shoulder. “He’s  _ really _ smart. He even started at university a year earlier than most people.”

There were the appropriate gasps and questions at that revelation and Jongho slowly relaxed. He didn’t advertise the fact that he skipped a grade in school, but he also didn’t actively try and hide it. He was used to questions about this, used to being looked at in slight awe at the revelation. This was more in his comfort zone, and he silently thanked Yeosang for driving the conversation here. He knew he wasn’t that impressive in most regards, but academics was the one thing he  _ really _ excelled at, and it was nice to see the silent admiration and approval in the eyes of these people who seemed to exist on a whole nother level than him. 

The dinner continued in a mostly pleasant way, with the old friends laughing and chatting, doing their utmost to involve Jongho in the conversation. Jongho appreciated it, even though he felt lost more often than not in discussions of who said what in the fashion circles, or when one of the others forgot themselves and mentioned someone Jongho didn’t know. Near the end of the meal, when Jognho was mostly picking at the last of a particularly large bit of meat, Yeosang’s hand landed on Jongho’s knee as he talked and Jongho froze up on instinct. Yeosang had been more touchy that night than any other time they’d spent together, and Jongho really didn’t know what to think about it. 

San, whose eyes had been drifting speculatively between the two of them for the entire meal, narrowed as he caught that and a smirk Jongho wasn’t sure he liked spread across his face. At the next lul in the conversation, San leaned forward and folded his hands underneath his chin, looking at Yeosang with that same narrow gaze he’d worn since he caught Jongho’s reaction. 

“So,” he started, clearing his throat and waiting until Yeosang’s questioning gaze was fixed on him. Jongho didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know what San was planning to do, but whatever it was, he didn’t feel like he would like it all that much. “I can’t help but notice that our boy here,” his eyes cut to Jongho, “almost jumps out of his seat each time you touch him, Yeosang.” The hand still on Jongho’s knee tightened before slipping off entirely, leaving Jongho with a cold knee and a surprisingly sharp ache in his chest. “Aw, don’t take your hand away,” San crooned, narrowing his eyes at Yeosang, something passing over his face so quickly Jongho barely caught it, much less had time to decipher it before he spoke again. “You shouldn’t deprive your omega of affection, Yeosang, you know this.”

_ His _ omega. Jongho had felt frozen since San started speaking, but when he saw how Yeosang froze at those words, how his eyes sharpened into a glare focused on San, something in him snapped and he sprung up without consciously deciding to do so, ignoring the sharp gaze and hissed “ _ San _ ” from Mingi and Seonghwa. 

“Uh, it was nice to meet all of you,” Jongho babbled, bowing way too low as he backed away from the table, glad that their table wasn’t against the wall and it was easy to get up and get away. “Uh, yeah, I have to go uh,” he cut a quick glance at Yeosang who was staring wide-eyed at Jongho, before wrenching his eyes away. No need to hurt himself more than he already was. “Goodbye!”

With that, Jongho turned and walked quickly out the door, ignoring the outburst of whispered conversation behind him, as well as a dissonant clatter. Outside, the chill of the early autumn air settled the upset flush that had appeared on Jongho’s face and he was just telling himself that he was okay, that he was  _ fine _ , when quick footsteps sounded behind him and a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him in his stride. 

Jongho knew whose hand that was from the scent drifting from behind him, of course he did. He had dreamed about that scent more than once in the past couple of weeks. Still, he didn’t turn around. Colour was still high in his cheeks and Jongho had the horrifying suspicion that he might do something embarrassing like  _ cry _ if he looked at Yeosang now.

“Jongho, please stop, just wait, please.” 

Jongho stopped, but he didn't turn around, tilting his head slightly to the side to show he was listening. 

"I…" Yeosang trailed off, before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, about San. He shouldn't have been so presumptuous. I know--" the hand on his arm tightened. "I know you're not anyone's, that talk like that really isn't--" 

"So you don't want me?" 

The words came tripping out of his mouth without his permission, and as embarrassed heat flooded his face, Jongho thanked his lucky stars he still had his back turned to Yeosang. 

"I--what?" 

"Nevermind." Jongho shook his head. It was a stupid question, stupid line of thought, Yeosang was being considerate and kind and--

“You think I don’t want you?”

Jongho’s fingers plucked at the seam of his pants as he turned around, biting at his bottom lip as he looked at Yeosang’s furrowed face. “I mean you don’t--” His voice hitched and he shook his head quickly. “You don’t really act like most alphas. When they’re interested in an omega, I mean. You don’t-- you haven’t even hugged me.”

“I… was under the impression that you didn’t want ‘most’ alphas.” Yeosang cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s what Hongjoong implied, anyway.”

Jongho sighed. Hongjoong and his big mouth. He wasn’t wrong, of course. Jongho came into contact with loud and bombastic alphas on an almost daily basis in his study field, alphas that skipped showers so their pheromones would permeate the air, that assumed they were smarter and better than everyone around them purely because of their secondary gender. Jongho did not  _ want _ most alphas. But, from the first, it was obvious that Yeosang was not  _ most _ anything. 

“He’s not wrong. But, obviously you aren’t, and you kept talking to me even though I showed up at our first meeting sleep-deprived and with stains on my clothing but you never made a  _ move _ and I don’t really understand what it is you want because,” Jongho faltered, eye flickering up to Yeosang’s unreadable face. Jongho swallowed. He’d started this whole thing, and he’d gotten dressed up, and made a scene, so he might as well. He might as well finish it. “Because I quite like you. Like, actually like you. So if you don’t, if you don’t you might as well tell me.”

Jongho had half expected to be interrupted in the middle of his speech. Either by a touch or a word. Of course, Yeosang had not. Because he was kind, and patient, and  _ not _ most alphas. 

“I like you.” His voice was soft, but by the soft smile appearing on Yeosang’s face, he’d heard Jongho well enough. 

Yeosang pursed his lips, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. Can I…?” Jongho nodded and he stepped closer, and closer, slowly, slowly, and then finally close enough that he could wind his arms around Jongho’s waist. Jongho, like the adult and composed person he was, breathed in, out, in, shivered as the scent of Yeosang surrounded him, and then lifted his own arms to wind around Yeosang, his head settling gently on Yeosang’s shoulder. 

A wolf whistle sounded across the street and Yeosang chuckled in Jongho’s ear even as Jongho felt one of his hands lift from his waist to, presumably, flip said person off. Jongho closed his eyes and rubbed his face against the fabric of Yeosang’s jacket, his skin prickling as Yeosang’s arms tightened around him. 

“So… you like me?” Jongho tried not to tense up as he asked this question, tried not to let it show how very much he needed the answer to be in the affirmative. He didn’t know if the way Yeosang’s hand lifted to rub soothingly down his back meant he had succeeded or not. 

“Yeah I-- I like you  _ very _ much, Jongho.” Yeosang voice was soft and gruff against Jongho’s ear and Jongho could feel the way goosebumps prickled in the wake of it. “I haven’t initiated much because, believe it or not, I’m very nervous and you’re like, kinda intimidating. Not,” Yeosang hurried to add, as if he could feel the way the words rang through Jongho’s head, the echoes of countless other alphas telling him to tone it down, to play down his talents if he ever wanted to get a mate. “Not in a bad way. It’s hot. Like,  _ really _ hot. I love how smart you are, and how passionate you get about things, and I think you’re really, really, pretty, and I just didn’t know if I had much to offer you, is all.”

Jongho, despite how comfortably he was resting against Yeosang, inhaling the warm, cinnamony scent that emanated from him, pulled back, frowning. “Excuse me, but what? Yeosang, you’re, you’re  _ literally _ the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. The only reason I don’t have your selfies as my lockscreen and wallpaper is that I’m sure I’ll get too distracted looking at them to do whatever it is I took my phone out for.” Jongho spluttered for a second, feeling the way heat was rising up his neck. “And you’re like, kind, and  _ nice _ , and never make me feel bad for studying something ‘smart’--”

“Wow, the bar’s pretty low, huh?”

Jongho startled, then saw the way Yeosang was biting away a smile and grinned. “I mean, not really. That was the problem, really. That’s why Hongjoong insisted on trying to set me up.”

“Hmm.” Yeosang seemed to hesitate for a second before nodding his head firmly and leaning in, pressing his face lightly against the side of Jongho's neck, near his scent glands and inhaling deeply. Jongho’s eyes fluttered then flew open as Yeosang brushed his cheeks against Jongho’s once, twice, three times and pulled back, a flush high in his cheeks and a pleased smirk pulling at his lips. 

“Listen, I know I’m just a model doing a small acting diploma thing, and don’t have much to offer a literal genius who’s going so many places, but since you seem to like me…?” Here he shot a questioning look at Jongho, who rolled his eyes, too aware of the way his cheeks were aching with his smile, with the way his whole face felt hot, hot, hot, and nodded. Yeosang grinned wide, wide,  _ wide _ , sliding a hand down Jongho’s arm and around his hand, pulling it up to clasp between both of his. “Since you seem to like me, will you officially be my boyfriend and let me try and live up to your standards? I promise I’ll try very hard.”

The situation Jongho found himself in felt surreal to the extreme. A month ago, he was gritting his teeth as he tried not to let the goading of his classmates’ and sometimes even his professors’ words get to him, trying to convince himself that just because they were steeped in a society with antiquated values, did not mean they were right or that he was worth less. Now, he was standing on the side of a street filled with quaint cafes and bars, the sound of people laughing and talking, the clink of glasses and tableware a pleasant background noise as one of the sweetest, prettiest, fucking  _ kindest _ alpha’s he’s ever met was holding his hand and asking him out. 

Jongho would be an absolute _i_ _ diot _ to let this slip out of his fingers, no matter how much his insecurities were nipping at his heels. 

“‘Just a model’,” Jongho scoffed, stepping closer, lifting his own hand to grip around Yeosang’s, so both of them were holding on to each other. Looking directly into Yeosang’s eyes, Jongho pulled their hands closer, close enough so he could press a soft kiss on top of their tangled fingers, delighting in the way Yeosang’s eyes widened, then seemed to darken and soften at the same time. “This poor college student, who lives off of an ungodly amount of rice and ramen, would fucking  _ love _ to call ‘just a model’, his boyfriend.”

“Cool.” 

“ _ Very _ cool.”

“Okay, I win, pay up.”

Jongho startled and looked up to see Seonghwa, San, and Mingi leaning against the wall outside the restaurant, the two omega’s handing San money as the beta looked on with a shit-eating grin. Yeosang dropped their hands, (though he still kept hold with the one), and turned towards them. 

“This is why I can’t take you guys anywhere. You know that, right?”

“What?” San’s eyes were too big, too innocent, as he shrugged exaggeratedly. Jongho thought the act would have been much more convincing if it weren’t for the smirk still on his face, and the way he showily counted the money before pocketing it. “It was just a friendly little bet among friends who  _ care _ about the happiness and general felicity of their other friend. Just a little bet to see who could get that friend off his ass first and do something about the cute little thing he’s been loudly pining for for  _ weeks _ .” San winked at Jongho. 

Yeosang face and ears were bright red as he turned to face Jongho. “They’re lying, all of them. I don’t know them. In fact, I don’t have any friends. I need some. Let’s go make some.” Yeosang started dragging Jongho down the street, determinedly heading towards one of the little bars decorated with neon colours as Seonhwa, Mingi, and San snickered behind them, following and calling out friendly jeers. 

Jongho could not stop smiling. Especially not when Yeosang spent the rest of the night never more than a few steps from him, sinking into him each time Jongho gathered up the courage to put his arms around Yeosang.  _ Especially _ not when Yeosang called a cab for Jongho at the end of the night and, in front of all his friends and the drunk girls cheering them on and the cabby rolling his eyes and God herself, kissed Jongho, softly, chastely, whispering a soft, “I like you,” into his lips.

It. It was a good night. 

\\\

_ The third way an omega can show preference for a potential partner seems, on the surface, deceptively simple. Omegas, more than betas and alphas, need a pack/family setting, and it is not uncommon to find omegas keeping the same friends they made in high school or university for life. An omega interested in a partner will attempt to ingratiate the partner with said family/pack/friends. How well received this partner is by said friends is often a deciding factor in whether or not a partnership will survive. _

\\\

There were eight people gathered in Yunho’s apartment. 

This, in itself, was not an overly strange occurrence. As the only person in Jongho’s friend group to not be living in the dorms, Yunho’s apartment was the regular meeting place for any gathering bigger than three people. Realistically, his apartment could probably fit five people before everyone started infringing on everyone else’s personal space. Realistically, eight people wasn’t even close to the most people that had been squished into Yunho’s apartment at one time. 

The eight people were not the problem. Feeding those eight people was not even the problem. The problem, specifically, was that Yunho had opened the door to Seonghwa and San, turned blood-red, and promptly locked himself in the bathroom. 

“Do you two know each other?” Jongho was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door, watching Hongjoong talking softly at the door, attempting to get a reaction from the other side. Yeosang was sitting on the floor at Jongho’s feet, arms loosely linked around Jongho’s calf as he watched the proceedings with interest. Jongho was asking the question partly out of interest and partly to keep from cooing at how adorable Yeosang looked. He could do that later, where everyone else couldn’t see him flustered and blushing while Yeosang laughed at him.

Seonghwa was standing at the mouth of the hallway, a pinched look on his forehead. San had taken one look at his friend, snorted, and made his way to the kitchen to help slash bother Wooyoung with the food. Seonghwa startled as Jongho spoke. 

“Sort of. I guess.” Seonghwa shrugged, hands coming up to grip at his elbows. “There was a party and everyone was pretty uh, drunk. There was some stupid drinking game and things… may have gotten slightly out of hand.”

Jongho blinked quickly. “‘Out of hand’? That could mean a lot of things, hyung.”

Seonghwa scowled at Jongho. A few weeks ago, Jongho might have retreated before an expression like that. A few weeks ago, Jongho would still have been counting his words carefully in front of Yeosang’s friends. Since the first meeting, however, there had been one more dinner and a few more hangouts, and while Jongho wouldn’t quite describe them all as friends, not yet, he was comfortable enough with his place in Yeosang’s life, and with them, to simply roll his eyes in response. 

Yeosang laughed softly, hand stroking up and down Jongho’s calf. “It’s no use playing dumb, Seonghwa. My boyfriend’s very,  _ very _ smart. He knows when people are talking bullshit.”

A little thrill shot through Jongho’s spine as Yeosang said the word ‘boyfriend’. It’s been three weeks, and that word still made something soft and malleable in Jongho’s tummy shift. “Oh, is that so?” Jongho grinned down at Yeosang, who smiled up at him, and they would probably have been stuck there for a while if the soft whispering from Hongjoong hadn’t abruptly stopped and the bathroom door opened, admitting a still red-faced but stoic looking Yunho into the hallway. 

“Ah, sorry, everyone. That was…” His eye briefly landed on Seonghwa before focusing on a spot somewhere down the hallway. “I was just startled. It’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “We can go now.”

Wooyoung poked his head around the corner, eyebrows shooting up as he saw the awkward configuration of people gathered in the hallway. “I’m sure this is a  _ lovely _ gathering and you’re all just absolutely enjoying the hell out of yourselves, but the pizza is getting cold and I  _ will _ strangle that tall omega if he keeps stealing pieces.”

As if on cue, Mingi, who had arrived before Seonghwa and San walked past, a pizza piece in his mouth, hands occupied with carrying a pizza box and fried chicken box in the direction of the living room. 

“I’m gonna fucking murder him,” Wooyoung snarled, throwing himself after Mingi and they both disappeared with a crash and bang. 

“My  _ parents _ pay for this place, they can’t trash it,” Yunho whined, rushing after them and, just like that, the group in the hallway dispersed, Yunho and Seonghwa on their way to make sure no one broke anything in the apartment or, less importantly, themselves, and Jongho bending down to help Yeosang to his feet.

“That was weird.”

Yeosang threw his arm around Jonho’s shoulders, leaning on him, and shrugged. “Not really. Seonghwa wouldn’t shut up about some alpha that almost made him leak a few weeks ago. Cause we know who it is now.”

“That’s-- ew.” Jongho wrinkled his nose. 

“‘Ew’?”

Jongho pretended not to see the amused twist to Yeosang’s mouth. Since that first outing with Yeosang’s friends, Jongho had gone from thinking Yeosang didn’t like to touch people to knowing that he seemed to be semi-touch starved, always needing to have a hand on Jongho’s arm or shoulder or, on a few memorable occasions that had had Jongho trying not to squirm and Yeosang smirking, his thigh. And it wasn’t done in a possessive way either. More like Yeosang wanted to remind himself that Jongho was there, or like he found comfort out of the contact.

It’s been great, personally, for Jongho. Not only do they kiss now, sometimes, but when they’re alone they even scent each other. Getting high off of someone else’s scent is now a feeling Jongho knows intimately. 

All the kissing sessions, of course, had led to several instances of Jongho losing control and, well, leaking. The first time it had happened, Jongho had frozen, pulled away, and curled in on himself, only relaxing when Yeosang pulled away with a worried expression, hands fluttering around Jongho, asking if he had done anything wrong. 

He hadn’t, of course. Jongho had just gotten lost in the delicious cinnamon scent the scent glands at the base of Yeosang’s throat kept giving off, the way in which Yeosang hands were clenching and unclenching around Jongho’s waist, one of them even daring to go low enough to lightly trace the waistband of Jongho’s pants. 

Honestly, Jongho was surprised that that was the extent to which they have gone. It’s almost the same as the situation with the touching and the hugging. Once Jongho had given him permission, once Jongho had initiated the kissing and the hands curling in the hairs at the base of their necks, Yeosang had caught on and held on with a fervour. 

Yeosang never initiated the first step, though. He was always watching, waiting, dark eyes focused on Jongho in a way that would have made him uncomfortable were it not for the soft smile that usually accompanied them.

“He won’t… he won’t  _ do _ anything,” Jongho had whined, facing Hongjoong as they both lounged on their beds. “He didn’t hug me until I told him he could, and now he won’t kiss me unless I start it. And I get that like, he’s being respectful and shit, but it feels like I’m pushing him to do things he doesn’t want to do.”

Hongjoong had hummed, a cracking sound filling the room as he bit down on the lollipop in his mouth. Jongho winced. He really did not like that sound. “Have you told him this? You know, like an adult? Like adults are supposed to do? Which we are, at least according to like, the law and stuff.”

“ _ Hyung _ ,” Jongho had groaned, pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes, rubbing until he saw little shooting stars. “Ugh, I know, but I hate having to-- I just feel so awkward having to say stuff-- why can’t he just  _ know _ ? You know?”

“Aww my little dongsaeng gets confused by putting the words into the sentences,” Hongjoong had crooned, hands cupping the air as if around Jongho’s face. “Such a cute little baby.”

The conversation had rapidly deteriorated from there, but Jongho had kept thinking about what Hongjoong had said. He was right, of course, unfortunately. Communication between people was just essential as between two computers working in a node. It was just a shame that the computers made more sense to Jongho than words ever have. 

Jongho twisted around to face Yeosang, Yeosang’s arms falling from around his shoulders. “So, you  _ don’t _ think it’s gross?”

Yeosang blinked at him. “I--what?” The only light in the hallways was coming from the lit living room at the end, but Jongho thought he could see the colour building in Yeosang’s cheeks. “You think I  _ don’t  _ like the smell of my om-- of my boyfriend getting turned on?”

He was definitely blushing now, but Jongho was too so he was not in any state to point fingers. Still. The subject had been brought up now, and since it was in the air anyway… “I don’t know?” Jongho shrugged, dipping his head. “You just always kind of pull away when it happens and uh, you never try to take things further and--”

“I pull away because you look uncomfortable and, believe it or not, I am very much not unaffected. Haven’t you ever felt--” Yeosang cut himself off, and Jongho looked up to see Yeosang looking off to the side, a twist to his mouth that looked almost embarrassed. “Look, you seem uncomfortable, and unsure, and I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not gonna push you to go further just because you smell like you’re into it. You can’t control your scent.”

Yeosang was standing with his arms crossed, lips pushed into a pout, determinedly not looking at Jongho. Jongho had never been so fond of any one other person in his  _ life _ . 

“That’s very noble of you, hyung, but, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite, uh, inexperienced with all of this.” Jongho thought of heats spent stuffing himself with knotted dildos and his fingers in his mouth to try and mute the whining. “Well, as much as anyone can be, you know.”

Yeosang laughed softly, and turned towards Jongho again. “Yeah, as much as anyone can be.” He lifted a hand, placing it softly against Jongho’s cheek, thumb lightly stroking. “I don’t know if  _ you’ve _ noticed, but I’m also not the most uh, experienced.”

What? Jongho’s eyes flick up and down Yeosang who, even in the dark hallway, seemed to shine with an unearthly beauty. “I-- _ what? _ ”

An adorable giggle that Yeosang stepped closer to press against Jongho’s neck. “It’s true! I was just always so busy, and mostly didn’t think about it until recently. Did you know, I only agreed to meet up with you because Hongjoong had been almost begging me for literal months?”

A shiver of ice worked its way down Jongho’s back. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” Jongho stepped back, feeling the sudden urge to run and hide himself in a corner, never being perceived ever again. “I thought-- well, who knew what I thought, but here you are, doing a favour for a friend, and you find an exhausted, messy, and inattentive university student waiting for you. You must have been  _ so  _ disappointed.”

Yeosang just rolled his eyes, stepping closer again. “You’re being ridiculous. Honestly. You’re  _ so _ smart, and  _ so _ handsome, and so funny, and kind, and nice, and you even pretend to listen when Mingi starts talking about his Lego collection--”

“Hey, I’m not pretending I actually like Legos.”

“I know, and that’s adorable.” Yeosang placed a quick peck on Jongho’s nose who promptly lost all capability of speech, specifically self-deprecating words, which Jongho rather thought was Yeosang’s goal. “Now, why don’t we go and join our friends before they eat all the food.”

And so they did, and their friends jeered at them for lingering in the dark hallway, wiggling teasing eyebrows at both of their flushed faces. And they talked and ate and talked and played stupid party games that had Jongho landing on his ass hard from twisting the wrong way in Twister, laughing so hard he barely felt it. And he was home.

\\\

_ The fourth way and omega can show their preference is less something you can observe in a social situation and more of an occurrence in an intimate setting. While it is technically possible for any omega to mate with any other subgender, the production of the slick fluid meant to ease the way for the penetrating partner (traditionally, although modern scholars and social activists all admit that this is a purely traditional setting and that the omega does not have to be the penetrated partner) is only spontaneously (i.e. without engaging in overtly sexual acts like fingering) produced when in an intimate setting with the preferred mate of said omega.  _

\\\

It happened again. 

They were in Yeosang’s room, idly making out, when it happened again. 

Jongho was warm, but in a pleasant way, not bothering to stop the little whines and sighs that wanted out as Yeosang mouth at his neck and jaw, sucking lightly before moving up to his mouth again. Jongho was warm, and turned on, and into it, and so, when they shifted on the bed and Yeosang’s thigh slipped between Jongho’s legs, it was only natural for Jongho to roll his hips against it once, twice, before Yeosang’s hands shot down to keep him still, pulling away from the corner ot Jongho’s mouth with a harsh gasp. 

Jongho opened his eyes, bleary from the prolonged exposure to Yeosang’s scent, and blinked, registering Yeosang’s blown pupils and harsh breathing before he noticed the slick looseness between his legs. Oh. Jongho tightened his hands in Yeosang’s shirt; sleeveless, which had taken Jongho the fuck out and prompted this bout of making out. 

“Don’t go,” he whispered. His hips tried to shift again and, after a second, Yeosang’s hands loosened and let him. “Please, don’t go.” Now that his hips had started moving again, Jongho could not stop it, could not stop the way he tilted his head back, exposing his neck, could not help the small, aborted noises in his throat. 

He heard rather than saw Yeosang swallow. 

“You sure?” Yeosang’s voice was deeper than usual, dipping into a rumbling timbre and the nod Jongho gave was an almost helpless response. 

_ Yes _ , he was sure. He did not know quite what he wanted, did not have the experience to know it yet, but he could feel his hole clenching, he could smell the way his and Yeosang’s scents mixed and thickened with arousal around them and. And he wanted it, so bad.

“I want you,” he whispered. “Please, want me too.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Yeosang descended on him, his hands going under and up Jongho’s shirt, grabbing and caressing all that new, smooth flesh, fingertips catching on Jongho’s nipples. When Jongho gasped at the feeling, Yeosang stopped and concentrated his efforts, pulling lightly and, when he cocked his head at Jongho and he nodded, pulling his shirt right off of him and attaching his mouth to Jongho’s nipple.

Jongho had never thought of himself as having particularly sensitive nipples. He’d seen the porn and read the stories and knew that, for a lot of people, nipples were a major erogenous zone. He’d tried it a few times, but after getting nothing but a few half-hearted tingles down his spine, he’d mostly ignored them in favour of other, more obvious places in his self-exploration. 

When Yeosang’s mouth flicked over his nipple however, when that warm heat enveloped him, it felt like something in him clicked into place, like a nerve he’d been ignoring before clicked into place inside him. Slowly, methodically, Yeosang divested Jongho of his clothing piece by piece, his mouth following his shifting hands and, by the time Jongho was panting in just his boxers, said boxers were little more than a slightly gross, wet piece of cloth separating them. 

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Jongho asked, watching with hungry eyes as Yeosang took off his shirt, leaving him in just his jeans. Jongho would have been more embarrassed about the discrepancy in dress between the two of them if it weren’t for the fact that he could see the obvious proof of Yeosang’s arousal straining against the denim, couldn’t see the way Yeosang’s pale skin was flushed pink. 

“Given and gotten a few blowjobs but never, never anything more,” Yeosang breathed out, an almost pained expression crossing his face as Jongho lifted his hand to pinch teasingly at the pink little nipples on Yeosang’s chest. 

Jongho hummed, too caught up in the way the planes of Yeosang’s chest and stomach shifted against his palms, a trail of goosebumps following in the wake of his fingertips. “That uh, that seems like a shame.” His hands slid up to lock together behind Yeosang’s neck, eyes catching on Yeosang’s. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And then Yeosang  _ smiled _ , and it was beautiful and Jongho didn’t want to name the heavy filling sitting in his chest, the way he felt like he would run to the ends of the world to see that smile again. Maybe soon, maybe not never, but not yet. Not quite yet, anyway. 

When Yeosang sunk into him, later, when Jongho had been whining for what felt like hours while Yeosang stretched him out with those clever fingers, when Yeosang’s mouth closed over the scent glands on his neck, not biting, just lightly resting his teeth, something in Jongho relaxed. 

Definitely sometime soon. 

\\\

_ The last, most important, and most misunderstood sign of an omega’s preference, is the mating mark. In recent times, it has become a more common sight than ever before. Previously, mating marks were not required in most marriages since it was understood that a lot of marriages were for political and familial connection. The new norm of requiring mating marks at most marriages might be the cause of skyrocketing divorces and medical removal of said marks. It must be given willingly, and will scar horribly if forced on an unwilling omega.  _

Jongho sighed, stretching his arms out behind him, wincing when he heard a crack. Yeosang hated when he did that. Luckily, Yeosang wasn’t home yet. He had an audition today, a big one, and in an attempt to distract himself from worrying about Yeosang’s audition, Jongho had finally started on the essay that he’d been procrastinating on for weeks. As he lowered his arms, his one hand instinctively traced over the barely-healed marks on his neck, imprinting the shape of Yeosang’s mouth on him.

They talked about it a lot before doing it, but, in the end, Jongho was glad they had decided to go through with it. After three years together, he really couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else. 

His phone beeped, and Jongho glanced over to see the alarm he’d set for himself going off. It’s been three hours. He’d promised to meet Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa for drinks tonight. Yeosang was supposed to meet them after his audition. Stretching out one more time, Jongho sighed contentedly, yawned, and got up, shaking out his limbs.

He still had to write the conclusion and pad out the essay, but he could do that later, after meeting with his friends and mate. His essay would still be there afterwards, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this because of spite, finished it because I liked it, and then let it set in my drafts, completed, for a bit more than a month. Either way, enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: [googlyeyes1507](https://twitter.com/googlyeyes1507)


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